


for whom the white lillies blossom

by 264feet



Series: akira wanted to be a bride [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Trans Character, Trans Persona 5 Protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/264feet/pseuds/264feet
Summary: Trans girl Akira, given the body she truly desires by Maruki's reality, accepts the offer. | Alternate ending to 'Akira Wanted To Be a Bride'.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira
Series: akira wanted to be a bride [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052318
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	for whom the white lillies blossom

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was cathartic for me to write during a difficult time. It's non-canon to the fic. I was hesitant to attach this sort of ... alternate darker ending to a happy fic, but it's something I wanted to include in the end.

“What do you intend to do?” Akechi demands. “I won’t wait a moment longer. Answer me.”

Akira sits on one of the barstools and smooths out her skirt for what may be the last time. Her breath comes in short bursts. She stares back at the wild, desperate woman reflected in a glass cup. 

All the words of support that her friends had shared with her bleed out her ears. She touches the skin of her cheek as if to assure herself it isn’t someone else’s flesh that she pulled taut over her own. When this reality fades, so will this body, leaving her in _that_ one. 

Wakaba’s kimono, a present to her surrogate daughter, hangs in the closet upstairs. Akira feels like, in the moment of total silence, she can hear it rocking back and forth like a prisoner on a noose. Her phone burns in her pocket like a hot coal. The last message her parents had sent to her had said they love and respect their daughter.

“We’re taking the deal.”

Akechi’s eyes narrow. “Are you serious?”

His vitriol doesn’t hurt as bad as she thought. A long sigh releases from her body as if she’s deflating. “I’m tired of fighting, Akechi.”

He slams his fist onto the counter. “Said with the privilege of someone who could just walk away from it all. I was born on a battlefield, you attic scum. I’ve fought for as long as I could stand on my own two feet.”

“Do you honestly think that’s made you a better person?” she asks, and Akechi’s back straightens. “If you held yourself as a baby within your own arms, would you choose to toss him into the battlefield again, knowing it would lead to your premature death?”

“In a goddamn heartbeat. I may have died, but at least it was following my own path. You’ll never be able to do that in this fake reality.”

“The actual reality isn’t for people like me. It never was.”

It’s just enough to throw Akechi off-balance. Akira continues. “This is the part where you’re going to say that we _shape_ reality, isn’t it? Shape it with what, Detective? Our blood? How many trans people does this world have to put six feet below for the crime of existing before ‘it gets better?’”

“You mean to tell me that the one who felled Yaldabaoth is scared?“

This time, she slams her hands on the counter. The glass on the counter rolls off and shatters on the floor. “I didn’t fucking ask for this!”

Akechi rears back, but Akira grabs his shirt collar, tears burning in her eyes. “All I fucking did was save a woman from being molested, and since then, I’ve been dragged along in chains in a game I never signed up for!”

“You wouldn’t have met your Phantom Thieves otherwise,” Akechi says, gloved hands clawing at Akira’s. He gasps for breath. “You wouldn’t be a hero--”

“I never wanted to be a hero.” Akira releases Akechi. She feels like Atlas, but if his burden only continued to grow. "I just wanted to be a girl. I wanted to be myself. I don’t care about the ‘what ifs’ of the past. It all feels hollow knowing that I’ve only made these friends and victories as a shell of a man.”

Her stomach churns. Any moment, she expects to hear Akechi turn and walk out of the store. She isn’t sure what compels him to stay: his anger toward her or if he actually fears the consequences of not stopping her.

“You _are_ yourself, not a shell, you sniveling dumbass. You were still a woman during those times,” Akechi says, his voice sounding something close to empathetic-- not quite, but almost. “You’ll still be a woman when this ends.”

“Not the same. Not like I want. I’ll go back to _that_ body. My time here will end and my parents will be expecting their son at the train station.” She looks up, bangs partially obscuring her eyes. “And don’t _you_ try to give me family advice.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “Then just give up. I know you’ve made your choice no matter what I say. Our deal is off.” Oddly, he sounds just… tired.

She steadies her breathing. She manages to stand herself back up. She leans on the counter for support. “Why are you still here?”

“Can’t a man enjoy his last few moments of having his own mind?” Akechi mutters. “I get it. You want to be a girl. Not some facsimile, not anything short of this. And what about what I want?”

She isn’t sure how to reply. Fortunately, how he continues speaking. “I’m trans, too. Everything else aside, I suppose what I- or every other person like us- wants doesn’t matter so long as you can frolick around in your fucking skirts.”

“Excuse me for not taking a worldwide survey,” Akira spits. “How can I get a complete picture when I can’t consult all the people like us who have already died because of our twisted society? I know the value of life has no meaning to you, though, murderer.”

He doesn’t reply, but rather just makes a sharp sound. Akira takes a breath. “Listen to me. There is no point to it all. When you die, you die. There’s no heaven. There’s no great reward or punishment. Some suffering improves people, and some suffering is just suffering. It’s meaningless pain. You’ve put yourself through years of meaningless torture just because it’s all you’ve ever known.”

“Don’t you act like you know what I’ve been through.”

“You’re right. I don’t. I shouldn’t have to. We both should be playing chess or some shit right now. Not talking about how much we’ve suffered and how much we’re going to continue to do so.”

“Akira…”

“I don’t want to be some kind of trans ambassador. I don’t want to be ‘brave’ for dressing how I want to. I don’t want to keep changing a world that doesn’t want to change. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept properly in over a year. I can’t do this anymore. I just want to be myself.”

“You won’t _be_ yourself. You’ll be Maruki’s puppet. You won’t even know you have Sumire’s blood on your hands. Don’t act like you’ve forgotten about your little girlfriend-- was everything you told her all bullshit?”

Akira can’t answer. She turns her head away. Akechi scoffs. “That’s what I fucking thought,” he says. “You touted yourself around as being any better than me, but the second you get the opportunity for _you_ to come out ahead and throw the rest of us under the bus, you do it.”

“It’s all been an exercise in futility.”

“What now?”

She turns and looks back at one of the tables. She and the other Thieves had gathered there for meetings. Sae had joined them, too, near the end. They had been gathered around that table when they all voiced their support for her being trans. It feels like just yesterday she basked in their warm words.

Now she sits alone at the counter, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Her eyes trace to the _Saiyuri_. When she had first seen it, she felt that familiar pang of jealousy for her beauty. She never had to worry about passing, about hormone levels, about side effects, about family accepting her for being female, anything. And as the true painting was revealed, it only sunk Akira’s heart further. Saiyuri had been able to get pregnant, to give birth, to hold her newborn close to her chest.

And then they hung up the painting and found their next target and the cycle continued. That’s all it had been, a game.

“Nothing we did as the Thieves made a difference to begin with. For every one person we saved, a dozen more suffered because we’re only one group. Mishima sometimes had to shut down requests just because of how overloaded we became.”

“Then let the losers solve their own problems.”

“What, solve them like you did?” Akira snaps. “You don’t _get it_ , do you? We beat Shido and nothing changed. We dethroned Yaldabaoth and nothing changed. We thought we were making a world for ourselves, but instead another person rose to the throne because humanity doesn’t _want_ to live like this. If we take down Maruki, who will rise up next?”

Akechi grits his teeth. “Then we keep fucking fighting until they _accept_ reality. Don’t tell me you’ve caught Maruki’s savior complex. Don’t you understand that not everyone can be saved? That’s the natural order.”

“Why does it have to be like that? What is the natural order? What made that reality the ‘true’ one?” Akira continues, exasperated. “How do we know that reality wasn’t just a figment of someone else’s imagination?”

“You don’t know, but we know for certain that this one is.”

The air is thick with silence. Finally, Akechi turns around. “We’re done here. I’m not wasting a moment longer on you.”

There’s a wave of cool air as he throws open the door and walks out. Akira turns away, shivering. When she hugs herself, she can feel her chest in the way. Her chest, on her body, born the way she should have been. She giggles, panic tangling around the laughter like a vine.

Exhaustion hits her _hard_. She’s more tired than she has been after any of the Palaces she’s defeated. She manages to crawl upstairs into the attic, into her bed. As she falls asleep, she stares at the kimono on the coat hanger, how its sleeve waves to her in the breeze.

* * *

Their party comes and goes. The new year marches on as it should. Kasumi works on her goals. “I can’t wait to keep practicing as a gymnast this year!”

Akira smiles. “You’re going to do great.”

“What about you, senpai? I can’t remember… did you have some goal you were ever working towards?”

When they pass by a store with bright white dresses and flowers in the window- _It’s wedding season!_ announces the sign- Akira just shrugs.

“I can’t really remember.”

“There’s still plenty of time to discover yourself!”

She glances at Kasumi’s hand. She begins to reach toward it, then stops herself short.

“Yeah. There is.”


End file.
